Lost
by percy81511
Summary: This is my first fanfiction, so it may be a bit rough. Here's the gist: Natalie Roster is an ordinary girl with an extraordinary situation. She is a foster girl with no knowledge of her past prior to twelve years of age. As she adventures to find her family, she meets unexpected circumstances and unexpected people. This doesn't get into Starcrossed until a bit later, so read on.
1. Chapter 1

PART ONE: THE MYSTERY

THIS IS THE FIRST PORTION. THE INVOLVEMENT WITH STARCROSSED WILL TAKE PLACE MORE IN LATER PORTIONS.

-1-

**Natalie woke to the sound of bells.**

She lay in her bed for a moment, listening to the cacophony of metal clashing against metal. Yet underneath the brass chaos and bold earsplitting pandemonium, hidden from layer upon layer of useless racket, there was a melody, something beautiful, something worth straining your ears for. And so Natalie lay there, humming the hidden song.

The sound of the church bells eventually dwindled, and Natalie rose from her bed. The sound of the different children in Jessica Roster's group foster home soothed Natalie. It was, after all, the sound that Natalie had grown up with for four of her sixteen years.

It was Sunday, and Natalie realized that she had promisedJessicathat she would help with coaching her track team, who's first practice was that day. Natalie was insanely fast. Like, way past Olympic fast. She usually hid in the middle of the pack, butJessicathought it was good to have experience on the team's side. It was only elementary school, after her.

Natalie grumbled as she got down from the bottom bunk of her shared room. She opened the box at the end of her creaky matress and pulled on a t-shirt and cheap jeans. She threw on a pair of ten-dollar beat up Nikes she had found at Goodwill.

Natalie went across the hallway to the bathroom. Flipping the light switch, she grabbed a brush from where it lay, sadly neglected, on the countertop. She ran it through her long, golden hair, putting it up in a neat ponytail.

She ran back into her room, grabbing a sweatshirt she had gotten on sale from the Spirit Store in her school. She swung it over her torso.

Clambering down the stairs, Natalie hoped to god that Jeremy, one of the highschool kids in the foster home, hadn't eaten the rest of the bagels. The bagels were usually rock-hard, they were so cheap, and the cream cheese was usually expired, but it was still breakfast. A rarity.

Natalie came down into the kitchen. She checked in the dusty pantry to no avail. Sadly, the last of the stale bagels were gone.

She cursed.

"Watch your mouth, Natalie," Jessica Roster said as she entered the kitchen.

Natalie bowed her head obediently. She could argue, of course, but then it just lead toJessicabeing even more impossible with her.

"Get in the car."Jessicawas already halfway out the door, and Natalie had no choice but to follow her.

Jessica started the ignition as Natalie hopped in the backseat. She was too afraid to ride up front with Jessica.

As she drove in silence, Natalie decided to try it.

She cleared her throat. "Miss Roster?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes, Natalie?" Jessica asked boredly.

_Here goes, _Natalie thought. "Ah- so, I'm trying to get letters of reccomendation from a few teachers, and it helps if you have a signature from a guardian."

Jessica snorted. "And I suppose you're asking me."

"Ah- yes." Natalie braced herself. She knew what was coming.

Jessica turned the rearview mirror. "Natalie, honey, you know I support you, but you're playing a futile battle. With your- blocked past, I should very much doubt that any college would ever accept you."

"But, Jes- I mean, Miss Roster, I have to at least _try_. I know that I don't have any records or anything, or any mention of parents, or even how old I really am-" Natalie swallowed painfully. The DNA test hadn't even worked on her. The doctors guessed around twelve when she was dropped off at Jessica Roster's group foster home in a deep, life-threatening coma. "But I _have _to try. You understand that, don't you?"

Jessica pinched her lips together tight. "I'll think about it, Natalie. But you understand that whatever I do is for the best, you know that, right?"

Natalie didn't answer. Of course it was. It always was the great, kind Miss Jessica Roster, who was falsely ranked as one of the best foster moms. Natalie knew that her story of rescuing a twelve-year old child who was in a coma and woke up with no remembrance of her past was greatly helping her publicity, and Jessica didn't want to let her go. She never would.

It was still worth a shot.

"Natalie?" Jessica's voice jolted her back to the present conversation. "You understand, don't you?"

Natalie swallowed back her pride. "Of course, Miss Roster."

With that, the discussion was closed, and the conspicuous silence returned. Natalie bit her lip to keep from screaming. It was so unfair sometimes.

Jessica Roster was a retired former business executive. She was fifty-five years old, a big shot in a lot of different magazines, and a horrible foster mother. If you were older than fourteen in her group home, she paid for nothing but the essentials: the food in the kitchen and doctors' appointments. Everything else you worked for yourself.

Natalie lived off of Goodwill and thrift stores.

Besides that, Natalie was an exceptional case.

Jessica pulled into the parking lot. She turned to Natalie, who was slouched in her seat. "I am expecting simple tips. Nothing more, nothing less."

Natalie nodded obediently. Sometimes she wished she had a little more spark to her. Something special about her. Then her heart choked up. Of course, she was _special_. Just not the good kind.

Natalie stepped out of Jessica's Hummer, she took in the track field.

She lived in Allenham, Georgia. It was the small, sweet spot that tourists found so beautiful and all the people who lived there full-time found boring.

Sure, there was a beach. It was covered in rocks, and Natalie had learned the hard way that those gave you a nasty sprain if you tried to swim. Sure, there was saltwater. It wasn't the picture-perfect clear azure that you saw in the ads, however. It was a grayish-blue mucky mess. Most of the time, the sun shined nonstop, scarring your eyes forever. There were about three main streets.

Then there was a school. Yes, _a _school. It held grades kindergarten through high school. There was about six hundred kids total.

Yes, it was pathetic.

The track team was a new addition. There was a team of about five or six per two grades. It was really sad.

The track was a dirt trail mowed to death around a circle of overgrown grass. Natalie doubted it was even measured correctly.

There were five third and fourth graders sitting on the ground when Jessica walked over in her Prada heels. They looked at her incredulously.

Jessica stumbled in the weeds and Natalie had to straighten her. Natalie shook her head. It just wasn't right.

The group of kids looked at Jessica, who just looked, confused, at the track.

Natalie sighed. Turning to the kids, she crossed her arms.

"Track is running. That is what you need to get straight in your minds. It is not uniforms, or competition, or hair." There were a few giggles as a bald boy patted the top of his head. Natalie shook her head and smiled. "Track is about running. Running until you can't anymore. You will feel like you are flying by the time you truly run to the full extent. Your lungs will feel like bursting, your legs will be on fire, but your mind will be elated." The kids looked at her. "Now, to begin, take a lap."

They did so without complaint. Jessica looked at her and frowned. "I had a speech prepared."

Natalie shook her head. "Not everything is a speech and a plate of homemade cookies, Miss Roster."

Jessica narrowed her eyes at Natalie. "Watch that attitude. Don't think you'll be getting that signature from me, young lady."

Natalie sighed. She was never going to get any signature. She was in a hole, and Natalie knew it. It was very unlikely that she would ever get out.

Natalie sighed. Back to the track.

§§§§§

**Jacob O'Malley stared at Lindsay.**

"Break up?" Jake asked. He never really cared for Lindsay, and it wasn't a huge surprise. Actually, it was a welcome one.

Lindsay smiled apologetically. "Yeah. Sorry, but you're kind of a loser."

Jake shrugged. She wasn't wrong. "Ok. Cool."

"That's it?" Lindsay asked, taken aback.

"Uh- yeah," Jake said, confused. "Are you looking for more?"

Lindsay heaved a sigh of frustration. "God, Jacob O'Malley, you are _such _a jerk." She stormed away, her mousy brown hair blowing in the wind.

Jacob frowned. She was the one breaking up with him. Wasn't Lindsay the jerk there?

He sighed, remembering why he was at the soccer field. His younger brother, Clark, had a soccer game, and Jake was supposed to drive him home.

Jake turned to see Clark marching over dejectedly over the muddy field. Clark's team had lost yet again, suffering a defeat of fifteen to zero. His younger brother's team was hopelessly terrible.

"Hey," Jake said casually.

Clark shrugged. It been raining in the beginning of the game, and though it had died down, his shirt was still soaked.

Jake felt bad. Clark was actually quite good, but his family couldn't afford to put him on a select team. Jake had seven siblings, counting Clark, and his family just didn't have the time or money. Clark played the very bottom leagues.

Jake patted his younger brother's back. He knew how Clark felt. Jake had played soccer a long time ago but eventually gave up. His family would never be able to support him if he wanted to take it seriously.

Gray overcast clouds hung low in the sky, setting the perfect mood for a sad, solitary Sunday afternoon. The fields were full of long, lush, overgrown grass that tripped the players who ran and kicked.

The goals were two sticks of wood, pounded into the ground. Every game, some random sibling was paid ten bucks to get the ball every time someone made a goal. Jake fingered the bill in his pocket.

As they walked out to the parking lot, Clark turned to Jake. "Why was Lindsay angry? What did you do?"

Jake sighed as he opened his mom's car door. "You don't miss much, d'ya?"

Clark shook his head somberly.

Jake started the ignition and leaned back in his seat. "Lindsay broke up with me."

Clark frowned and cocked his head. "You don't look very upset to me."

"What makes you think that I would be upset?"

"Usually in those boring movies Ellie makes me watch, if the couple breaks up, they're usually sad about it," Clark explained, and Jake was hit with a vision of his sophomore sister crying over some cheap low-budget chick flick.

Jake laughed quietly and started driving. "I wasn't really in love with her, so I'm not that sad."

"Then why were you dating her?"

It was an honest question, and Jake stopped. He turned to his shrewd nine-year old brother who was staring at him expectantly.

"I don't really know, actually," Jake said aloud, more to himself than Clark.

"Well then, maybe next time, date someone you love. Then maybe you'll be sadder when she breaks up with you." Clark said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Jake smiled briefly. "I think it's time for some ice cream."

"Really?" Clark asked as he bolted upright in his seat. "Like, for real?"

"I just made ten bucks. I don't need it," Jake said dismissively, and Clark grinned from ear to ear as Jake pulled into a UDF and parked.

He locked the shabby Chevy and walked inside the store with Clark. Jake's brother sprinted over to the ice cream selection.

"Ooh, I want Double Fudge!" Clark exclaimed, and Jake walked over to the register.

"Well, if you're sure…" Jake began, but Clark was already shouting out the other flavors.

"Turtle Sundae! Wait, no, Rocky Road! Woah! Superman!"

Jake rolled his eyes and handed the bill to the woman at the register. "Whatever he finally decides on in sundae form with hot fudge, whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles, and a cherry, please."

"Sure thing," the counter attendant said, snapping her gum. She had white-blonde hair piled in a bun on top of her head. Her makeup coated her face. She looked to be in her late forties.

As Clark chatted on excitedly, Jake looked out the window. Next time he dated someone. Jake didn't even know if there would be a next time.

Clark tapped his shoulder. "Can I have cookie dough?"

Jake laughed. "Dude, you have no taste whatsoever, but yes."

The attendant nodded and started making the ice cream. Jake stood by, watching her make it.

Finally, she handed the ice cream to Clark, who looked at it with a manic grin on his face. Jake almost felt like laughing, but he just ruffled Clark's hair.

They walked out the door, and Jake took a deep whiff of the air, relishing the sweet moisture that hung in the air so visibly. The mist made a blanket over the street, and Jake turned on the bright lights on his car.

Jake smiled peacefully. His life might not be perfect, but there would always be cookie dough ice cream and little brothers to cheer him up.

§§§§§

**Ashley Day was painting her nails for the fifth time that week.**

It was part of being popular. You had to do stuff that was really ridiculous, like going shopping every Friday night, going to a party every Saturday night, and have a date day every Sunday with some football jock. During the week, it was trying to juggle cheer practice, gymnastics, dance, and trying to keep her grades up to a B average.

Ashley sighed as she decided on a luminescent pink. Her grades used to be stellar. A pluses in every subject. Now the only A she had was in gym.

She made a face. It was close to impossible to juggle all of that. Ashley didn't know anyone who could still pull off decent grades. Most of the cheerleaders didn't even care. Either their daddies were rich enough to get them into a good college, or they planned marrying rich.

Ashley frowned as she remembered someone who could juggle all of that. She laughed quietly as she remembered Andromache Mitchell, her childhood friend. Ashley smiled ruefully as she recalled how insanely jealous she had been. Mack had been gorgeous. Like, pure _insanity _gorgeous. Supermodel plus infinity. Besides that, Mack had been really good at everything. Grades were effortless. Sports were a breeze. Her drawings were really good. Mack's voice was freaking incredible.

She had ditched Mack on her birthday, which was kind of mean, but Ashley was mad at her. They had been at a bring-a-friend karaoke get together music event at the academy that Ashley took her voice lessons at.

You were supposed to have your friend sing a song. Ashley had been the undisputed champion of the karaoke, and Mack had to try. Ashley had no idea what Mack's voice sounded like.

It was the prettiest voice Ashley had ever heard in her life. People had come up to Mack afterwards asking if she was interested in getting an agent. Ashley had been so jealous.

So, Ashley hadn't gone to her birthday party.

Andromache had changed her name to Dro after that. Dro never spoke to Ashley again, and Ashley was kind of relieved. Not talking to the perfect girl was a good solution for a competitive girl.

Ashley stopped painting her toes and started on her fingernails. Dro made new geek friends, which was fine by Ashley. But in seventh grade, Dro disappeared.

People said her dad just got a job transfer, but it was earlier than the school had been notified. The whole thing had seemed kind of sketchy to Ashley, but she had shrugged it off. What else could it be? Child abduction? Her dad was gone too.

Ashley sighed. Today was date day. Her jerky boyfriend, Daniel (best receiver on the football team) and most of the other football jocks were taking their cheerleader girlfriends out to a movie. It was some cheap, so-not-worth it movie, but it was worth it for popularity.

Ashley went to her closet. On dates, no matter where, the cheerleader dress code demanded no less than a dress. Fortunately, she had a ton of dresses for that very purpose.

She pulled on a pretty white dress with blue flowers on it. It was a sleeveless dress, and Ashley grabbed a small cardigan. She threw on a pair of blue wedges and then went into the bathroom for makeup.

Ashley was petite with caramel colored hair and wide, dark blue eyes. Her complexion was okay, as she was freckled, but she was pretty enough. She put on a bit of mascara and slid some lip gloss over her lips.

She curled her hair, taking pains to make the curls picture-perfect. Ashley looked like she just bought her outfit and accessories from the Barbie catalog, but that was how all of the cheerleaders dressed.

Ashley sat down on her bed and waited. And waited. And waited.

By the time Daniel honked his car horn for her to get out there, he was forty-five minutes late. Ashley sighed.

She was happy, wasn't she? It was everything Ashley had ever wanted. Popularity, cheer squad, giggling friends- the whole nine yards.

And yet, sometimes Ashley had to wonder if she had made the right choice in becoming popular.

Would it have been better to stay friends with Mack?

Suffer through the occasional stab of jealousy and be happy with who Ashley really was?

This was what she really wanted, Ashley reassured herself.

Right?


	2. Chapter 2

-2-

**Natalie woke the next morning to her alarm.**

The harsh, earsplitting scream slit through the once peaceful air like a knife through butter. It roused Natalie from her peaceful visions of sugarplums, bringing her into the harsh air of high school and brittle reality of life.

She groaned and flipped the switch on the cheap alarm clock. It continued beeping constantly, and finally Natalie just slammed her hands down on the annoying, much hated machine. Thankfully, the noise stopped, and Natalie yawned, wondering whose idea it was to make kids wake up at five thirty in the morning.

After laying in her bed for a while, she eventually realized that she was going to be late. She rose from her bed and headed into the bathroom to take a quick shower.

The warm water steamed up and made a peaceful mist. She basked in it, letting the gentle, sweet water cleanse her of the dirt from the previous track meet. It woke Natalie up, alerting her senses to the point that if someone asked a question, she would be able to give a reasonable answer.

She headed back into her room. Cassidy Thane shared her room with her. Cassidy was a sophomore and was on a trip with her French class, so Natalie had the room to herself for the following week.

Natalie pulled on a t-shirt, hoodie, and jeans and slid on her Nikes from Goodwill. She pulled her long golden hair back into a ponytail, looking into the mirror. She sighed. Natalie had the face of a missing person.

She headed back into her room, grabbing the backpack from where it hung on a chair. Natalie grabbed it deftly, swinging the used mesh of fabrics over her right shoulder.

Natalie glanced at her cheap digital clock and swore quietly. The clock read 5:54, which meant that the bright yellow bus would be pulling up in front of her house any minute.

She sprinted down the stairs when it hit her.

The familiar blackness of one of her flashbacks over rid her feeble cerebral strength, and the enveloping darkness swallowed her in, grasping the strands of her memory.

_Natalie was in a house._

_ It was one of those modern intensely appealing houses. The appliances were top grade stainless-steel, and the walls were the gray that was similar to Earl Grey tea bags. The trimmings were a snowy white and the floor was a deep, espresso brown._

_ Natalie had the feeling she was wet. A sodden, fluffy jacket hung on her limply, weighing her down. She had learned years ago that her flashbacks were from the eyes of herself Before. She could watch, observe, and remember, but not ask any other questions. The doctors said they were just suppressed memories randomly bursting through the wall of defense Natalie had supposedly mentally constructed. _

_ A man stood across from her. He had his arms crossed, and he looked angry. Natalie recognized him from a few of her other flashbacks. She didn't know his name or her relation to him, but she did recognize his appearance._

_ He was in his early to mid-thirties. Tall and good-looking, he was obviously muscular. His eyes were a bright, piercing blue, and his gaze made Natalie want to flinch. She didn't, of course; she couldn't, even if she tried._

_ Natalie stuck her hands in her jacket. "Hello, Father."_

Father, _Natalie thought. So that's who he is._

_ Then the world went dark, bringing her abruptly to where she_ _lay limply, sprawled out on the hard, substantial pale wood of Jessica Roster's home._

Natalie gasped as she was jolted awake. She was panting, but exhilarated at the same time. That was the longest and most aware flashback she ever had, and though Natalie knew she would be exhausted and dizzy for the rest of the day, it was far past worth it.

"Natalie!" Jessica shouted, shaking her roughly.

She coughed a bit and sat up. The world span for a little bit, but then it stopped, and Natalie was able to focus on her legal guardian's face.

"I'm awake, now, Miss Roster," Natalie croaked. "You really don't have to keep on shaking me."

Jessica sat back then, looking scared. "You were out for almost forty-five minutes," she whispered, her eyes big and dilated. "Natalie, they're getting worse, honey."

Natalie bit back the urge to scream in her face. There was no way in heaven or hell she would ever take Dr. Tuttle's proposition.

She still remembered it. Natalie had been twelve years old, two weeks after she had woken up, when she had her first flashback.

Dr. Tuttle had informed Jessica and Natalie that what Natalie was experiencing was a breakthrough of suppressed memories. She didn't say it out loud, but Natalie was pretty sure Dr. Tuttle thought that Natalie had the ability to retrieve all of her memories, she had just built up a wall.

Jessica had pleaded with Dr. Tuttle for some way to stop the flashbacks. She had begged, and even gone down on her frigging knees for something.

Dr. Tuttle had finally admitted that she could stop the flashbacks, but it would mean eliminating Natalie's hippocampus of everything pre-coma.

Translation: getting rid of all of Natalie's missing memories.

Thankfully, Natalie had to agree, and that she most certainly did not. She had spat in Dr. Tuttle's face and gotten the hell out of there.

So Natalie sat there, fuming. "They're not getting worse, Jes- they're getting _better_." Natalie bit her lip, going from furious to ecstatic in a matter of seconds. "I know what my dad looks like."

Jessica sat back on her haunches, jaw slightly ajar. "You're sure? Do you know his name?"

Natalie shook her head. "Not yet. But if I keep the flashbacks, I eventually might."

"Natalie, it's simply not safe," Jessica said apologetically.

"You don't get it, do you?" Natalie crossed her arms. "I would rather die now figuring out who I am then die seventy years from now still being no one."

Jessica sighed and ran a finger through her short, gray bob. "Fine. I'll call Doctor Tuttle and tell her that we need to add a file." Jessica stopped, looking at Natalie with big, cold gray eyes. "But trust me, Natalie, this is not the end of this. You may have to eventually decimate those memories and use what little you have. In extreme cases, I am allowed to make the decision ultimately, and I have no qualms against doing so."

Natalie just glared at Jessica as she walked into the kitchen, leaving her dizzy and scattered on the wooden floor.

Natalie lay back. She replayed the scene over and over and over again, running through possibilities. She had a father. Maybe not genetic, maybe dead, but still. A real father.

Did he love her?

Hug her when she was sad?

Natalie wondered about her mother. Was she lovely? A happy, loving mother who read to her at night?

She eventually blacked out from sheer exhaustion, but she kept her father's face imprinted in her weak hippocampus.

§§§§§

**Jake walked through the hallways.**

People bustling and shoving along in the packed, infiltrated hallways had a sour expression on their face. Jake thought of Garfield and his intense hatred for Mondays and sighed. Garfield was right.

The mildly pleasant Sunday of cookie dough ice cream and misty afternoons was long gone, and in its place was a day full of shouting teachers and guffawing teenagers. Jake ran a hand through his orange hair, grimacing as he did so.

Conversations and gossip rang through the hallways, some in boisterous, loud, dominative tones, some in quiet, hushed whispers, and some in gentle, nervous murmurs.

He met Randall Hawthorne at his locker.

Randall Hawthorne; aka Randy, was Jake's best friend since kindergarten. Another person had once taken the spot for a couple of years, but Jake tried not to think of her. She moved away years ago.

Randy was halfway submerged in the blue box, rummaging around. Jake rolled his eyes. By the fourth quarter of the year, Randy was an absolute mess. Papers literally fell out of his locker as he rummaged.

Finally, Randy emerged, dancing. "Got it!"

"What?"

Randy grinned. "A homework pass from Miss Greene."

Jake knit his eyebrows together and read the crumpled piece of paper. "Ah, Randy?"

"Yeah-huh?"

"The pass said it expired three months ago." Jake suppressed a laugh as Randy turned the paper toward himself and scowled.

"Aw, man!" Randy groaned, banging his head against the locker. He reached inside for two binders and yanked them out fervently.

He kicked the locker door shut with the heel of his tennis shoe. More papers fluttered out, cascading weakly to the ground. A stray loose leaf paper with notes on it got lodged in his door.

Jake rose an eyebrow. "Any chance you're going to pick those up?"

Randy shook his head dramatically. "Just leave them."

He laughed as Randy pretended to flip his hair as if he were a girl. His pudding-bowl cut just made it a mixture of laughable and strange.

They walked past the popular lockers, and both Jake and Randy scrunched down. The populars were a _legend_. There were categories. The basketball players, usually with athletic girlfriends, were one. The lacrosse players, also with athletic girlfriends, was another. Then there was the football and cheer popular team. If you go up to the highest ranks of the football and cheer, you got the big six: Nathan Tier and Grace Sanders (quarterback and head of cheer Daniel Gregory and Ashley Day (_big _shot receiver and co-head of cheer), and lastly Brad Ford and Lina Halland (defense and top of the pyramid). They were the legend of the all-time populars.

Jake and Randy had to walk by their section of lockers every single day. Twice.

He desperately wished that another girl, from years ago, were with them. She had been about a million times prettier than all of the cheerleaders, and way more talented, and everyone knew it. Especially Ashley Day. That girl had been a real thorn in Ashley's side.

Jake blinked, burying her deep into the folds of his memory. No more thinking about that.

They continued down the hallways and eventually went their separate ways.

Jake thought back to that girl.

And he wondered exactly where she was now.

§§§§§

**He sat there.**

He was trying so hard, and it was getting harder with every passing minute. Everything was black now, and he had regained it, but not before it was too late.

A man with blonde hair and blue eyes gazed into his eyes. "I know you might not like hearing this, but it may be time."

He turned away from the man. "It will never be time." The words were harsh and bitter.

"It's getting worse with every passing day. It wasn't right in the first place," the man pleaded, but he turned away.

"Not yet. Perhaps never. But certainly not now. At this rate, it will be pieced together before I even relinquish."

The man looked at him with sad eyes. "Alright. I can't tell you what to do. But I can tell you that you and I both know the right thing to do."

He looked at the man angrily. "Go away."

The man walked away, shoulders slumped.

He hated to do what he needed to do, but he never intended to take it back. It was for the best.

And so, he sat there.

§§§§§

**Ashley waited by Lina's locker.**

Lina and Grace were chatting on while their boyfriends laughed and shoved down the hallway. Ashley just stood there, staring emptily into space.

Populars were so empty sometimes. It was like half the time they didn't even mean what they were saying. Most of the time, Ashley just played the sweet, quiet girl that everyone generally liked so that she wouldn't have to talk.

She listened to them babble mindlessly as she saw two unpopular boys shrink down as they passed the popular strip. Ashley tilted her head, seeing the orange hair of a boy she recognized. Jacob O'Malley. He was really good at soccer; Ashley had seen his games a couple of times. Jacob could've been really popular, but he never pursued soccer. Ashley wondered why.

Ashley bit her lip as she remembered where else she had seen Jacob. With Andromache Mitchell. The regular, freckled boy walking the halls with the prettiest girl Ashley had ever seen. It was quite a spectacle.

She hesitated, wanting to go after Jacob. Andromache had been on her mind a lot lately. Ashley found herself wanting to cancel popular dates more and more and go call up Andromache, wherever she was, and say sorry. To ask when, if at all, she would be back in town.

To ask to get some vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles, just like they used to get when they were little kids. The creamy coolness of the dessert used to melt in Ashley's mouth. She hadn't had ice cream in a million years. The cheerleaders were all so obsessed with weight loss and the like.

Then Ashley turned and saw Lina and Grace standing up, watching her oddly. Ashley realized she had been following Jacob O'Malley and his friend with her eyes. Her cheeks tinged pink, and Grace gave her one final strange look before talking softly to Lina.

They walked to class, and Ashley glanced at the analog clock worriedly. They were already one minute late. The halls were far from empty, of course, filled with the mixture of populars and slackers. Ashley swallowed. She would be joining Mr. Reichimer in detention that day, no doubt about it. That was her eighth late slip thatmonth. She grimaced. Her parents would ground her or probably even take away privileges, like date day on be Sunday.

Then again, maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Ashley waved away the thought. There was no way she would ever do that. It would completely destroy her rep, and…

"Ash? Earth to Ashley?"

She jumped a little at Grace's stern voice. The pretty, blonde and blue-eyed cheerleader crossed her thin little arms and glared at Ashley.

"You've been like, silent the entire time we've been, like, talking," Grace said snottily as she snapped her gum.

Ashley shrugged as her cheeks tinged for the second time that day. "Ah- I'm just, like, really worried about… stuff."

Lina giggled. "I know _who _she's worried about," she laughed.

Grace slugged Lina on the arm. "_Lina!_" she gasped.

"What are you guys talking about?" Ashley asked warily.

Grace turned apologetically to Ashley. "You haven't heard yet, have you?"

"No," Ashley said.

"Daniel was found in his car with-" Lina began, before Grace interrupted her.

"Never mind that," Grace covered, though Ashley already got the gist.

"He was cheating on me?" Ashley asked disbelievingly.

Lina nodded enthusiastically while Grace looked, concentrated, at the floor.

"With Sami Anderson," Lina added, while Grace winced.

Ashley bit her tongue. "That goddamned son of a-"

Grace stared at her, with a little grin tugging at the side of her mouth. Lina just tilted her head, confused.

"So you're not sad?" Grace asked.

"Hell no, I'm not," Ashley spat. "I'm angry!"

"That's ma' girl," Grace said cheerfully, hugging her.

Ashley was disgusted by Daniel's lack of faith. "That boy's got it coming, Gracie."

"Then give it to 'im," Lina put in, and all three girls smiled.

They had a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

-3-

**Natalie sat there anxiously as Dr. Tuttle reviewed all of the notes.**

The old, ugly doctor read through all of Natalie's descriptions. The doctor worked for social services, and would contact Natalie's social worker with any crucial information.

Natalie had just finished describing her father to Dr. Tuttle when she looked up helplessly.

"Look, Natalie- I understand this may seem big to you. I get that, sweetie. But honestly, this is the most helpful chunk of information we've gotten, and it's barely anything. It's a description of the inside of a house, which could be anywhere, and a man, who could be anyone, if he's even still alive." Dr. Tuttle sighed and adjusted her tortoise-shell glasses. "But I'm sorry. I can't even submit this to social services."

Natalie felt a sinking in her heart. "Are you sure? There isn't a way to… I dunno… search for him on the internet, or something?"

Dr. Tuttle shook her head. "I'm sorry, sweetie. If you search it on the internet, we could find him, but the images replayed are simply not reliable enough to play off of. We need names. Perhaps an address number. A phone number, even. Those are the things we can use."

Jessica bit her lip. "Dr. Tuttle, forgive me, but is there some sort of way to spur these- random- bursts of memory? Can we perhaps spur a reaction out of Natalie?"

Dr. Tuttle tilted her head, considering. "I have thought about it, and it is possible, though not likely, that similar events or familiar faces may trigger certain memories. At this point, it is just possible that the really important memories are buried in Natalie's subconscious too deep to ever be retrieved."

Tears sprang to Natalie's eyes. The pair of adults continued to talk over her constantly. She was never going to find out who she was, Natalie realized. Whatever that coma had done to her…

Natalie tried running through the stories to connect the dots.

She was found at approximately twelve years old on the doorstep of Jessica Roster's foster home. Jessica had opened the door to a limp, lifeless child.

Natalie had been rushed to the hospital. Doctors inspected her and told Jessica that she was in a life-threatening coma. They would do what they could, but she might not ever wake up.

Two months later, Natalie opened her eyes. Exhausted, deprived of vitamin D, she had nothing but a basic understanding of the world. No recollection of what had happened. Nothing.

They had tried a DNA test multiple times, but it always came up as NO MATCH on the blinking screen. The doctors had been puzzled, shaking their heads in disbelief, but Natalie had cried.

Eventually Jessica said that Natalie could become a child in her foster home, though technically Natalie needed to have medical records. Jessica earned tons of publicity by advertising miracle child that she had most graciously rescued.

Jessica named the nameless child Natalie Roster.

Natalie blinked back the salty tears that threatened to overflow her eyes. People said that things like polio, or cancer were the worst diseases. But Natalie disagreed. To not be able to know anything about you was the absolute worst case scenario ever.

Those flashbacks, however annoying, unpredictable, and dangerous, were Natalie's only connection to a past life. Besides the weird dreams, of course, but those were unprecedented sometimes and just downright terrifying other times.

Natalie suddenly stood up from the uncomfortable ugly green vinyl chairs. "If you can't help me, then can we be done here?"

The women exchanged a long, meaningful look, and finally Dr. Tuttle nodded. "I'm sorry, hon, I really am."

Natalie didn't answer her. She simply stood and walked out of the room without one backwards glance toward either of the women.

She had a father, Natalie just knew it. He was out there, somewhere, looking for his daughter that had been taken in a skirmish of some sort. She felt it in her bones.

Natalie pictured his face again and again and again. When she got back from Dr. Tuttle's office, she sat down at her cheap laminate desk she shared with Cassidy.

Natalie pulled out a smooth, creamy manila piece of paper and a charcoal pencil. She had splurged a little on art supplies, because, well, it was her hobby.

She took a deep breath, pushing the annoying golden curls that hung in front of her face.

Picked up the pencil.

And drew.

Slowly, with meticulous, careful strokes, and then boldly. Soon there was a face in front of her.

Her father's face.

§§§§§

**Ashley walked into the lunch room with a swing in her step.**

She was going to get back at Daniel; that much was certain. And despite being late almost ten minutes to class, she was in a good mood because of it. She wasn't really sad, just angry that she had let a jerk like Daniel take advantage of her.

Ashley had a plan. It was short, sweet, and simple. Its simplicity was what made it so incredibly desirable.

She walked to her table with a school lunch tray in hand, filled with the messiest, most disgusting foods she could find in the mushy school selection. Her heart raced with anticipation.

Ashley walked over to the table, and Daniel stood up to greet her with a hug and a kiss. She smiled at him with malice, and he stopped immediately.

"What's wrong, babe?" Daniel asked, leaning in for a kiss.

Ashley shrank back, disgusted. She took a deep breath, and then spoke.

"Let's see how Sammi Anderson likes you now."

She smashed the food tray into his face.

There was a stunned silence from the entire cafeteria, and then Daniel wiped off the food. He frowned, swiping mashed potatoes and canned green beans from inside his eyes.

Then the first laugh started.

It came from Grace, and then spread around the rest of the cafeteria gradually. Daniel stood angrily and grabbed the front of Ashley's shirt.

The laughing stopped abruptly.

Ashley shrank back. He had hit her before, once, when she had confessed to him that she didn't understand the point of athletics sometimes. It hadn't been hard, and he'd apologized. Ashley had come to her room and cried for a long, long time.

The hit came, a slow, venomous slap. There was a deep intake of breath from the spectators. Then Nathan Tier and Brad Ford stood, along with the rest of the football team, and crossed their arms.

Ashley dropped to the ground, sobbing hysterically, and Grace and Lina walked over. They cradled her, rocking her back and forth. There was yelling, and eventually some adult yelling at Daniel.

She cried, big, fat, wet, blotchy tears. It just wasn't fair.

A pair of adult arms came around her and helped her up. "C'mon, honey," a voice said soothingly. "We're gonna get ya home."

A million thoughts ran through her head. What the hell was she doing here? Being popular? Was it even worth it?

Should she have kept the vanilla ice cream and Dro and ditched cheerleaders and jerky boyfriends?

Ashley stood and wiped away the tears. She turned unsteadily, focusing her gaze directly on Daniel. "You son of a bitch," she swore. "You goddamned son of a bitch."

There was a silence, and then a smattering of clapping as Ashley flipped him the bird and stormed out of the cafeteria, Lina and Grace close behind.

As she walked out, she saw orange-haired Jacob O'Malley, appraising her gently with big, intelligent brown eyes.

She walked into the bathroom and sat down heavily. It seemed impossible, but Ashley was too distressed for tears. Her heart just beat heavily.

Grace sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her. Though Grace would never be Dro, she was as good as a friend as Ashley would likely ever get again. Grace rubbed her back comfortingly and stroked her hair.

"Oh, honey," Grace said. "Has he hit you before?"

"Once," Ashley admitted.

"And you let it slide?" Lina raised her eyebrows.

She just shrugged and looked at her hand, fingering her ring finger on her left hand.

"I don't even know why I dated him in the first place. I guess it was because everyone said we were so perfect together and all the other girls had a boyfriend. I wanted one. So I got it. But should you really be together if he asked you to marry him, and you would never in a million years consider it?" Ashley dropped her hand to her side. "I want to know what love feels like. I want to be happy."

There was a lengthy silence. Grace stood up suddenly.

"You need a vacation, girl," Grace said to Ashley. "Somewhere far away and exotic."

"Yeah. Like, Argentininininia." Lina nodded, and both Grace and Ashley just shook their heads.

"No, no, no. You need a vacation with us to like, California or somethin'." Grace grinned, but Ashley just shook her head.

"Thank you, Grace, but I'm done." Ashley stood. "My grades have dropped from me getting an effortless A to barely getting Cs."

"You get _Cs?" _Lina asked. "Wow. That's like, amazing. I would kill to be as like, smart as you."

Again, both Grace and Ashley just shook their heads, flabbergasted.

"I have no time to do things that I like doing anymore. Like, I haven't had any afternoon snacks and watched endless TV, or gone shopping at stores I like. I don't even like cheer. I miss my old friend," Ashley said sadly. "And I'm going to find her. I've had enough of this shit. Thanks, but no thanks."

Grace just stood there and sighed. Then she hugged Ashley hard. She held her at arm's length.

"Oh, honey, why didn't you just tell us? You can still be my friend. You can still sit at our table and be bookish. God, for all I care, you can be a freakin nerd sitting at the popular table." Grace laughed. "You're my friend, Ashley. I'm not going to hold anything against you."

That did it. Ashley cried.

Lina smirked. "Yeah. We don't even care that you have a crush on Jacob O'Malley."

"_What_?" Ashley asked, mouth wide open.

Grace gave herself a hearty face palm.

"No," Ashley shouted. "Why on earth would you think that?"

"You're always looking at him and studying him," Grace explained, pushing Lina aside. "I don't mind. He's sort of cute, if you go for the geeky soccer types."

"Omigod," Ashley groaned. "I do _not _have a crush on Jake. I stare at him because I remember my old friend when I see him. Do ya guys remember Andromache Mitchell, from like way back in seventh grade?"

Both of them shook their heads.

With a sigh, Ashley explained. "The drop-dead gorgeous girl who couldn't do anything wrong."

Looks of comprehension flitted over their features.

"Ugh, I hated that girl," Lina said. "She was so smart and pretty and just- ugh."

"It's not called hatred, Lina," Ashley said with gritted teeth. "It's called jealousy."

"Oh," Grace said thoughtfully. "Yeah, she was your friend pretty early on, wasn't she?"

"Yeah," Ashley admitted thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about her a lot lately. You guys would've liked her. She was so nice. We used to get ice cream after school every Friday. Vanilla with rainbow sprinkles." She cried weakly. "I miss her. I want to find out where she is and say sorry."

Grace nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. Then here's a what's we're gon' do. We're gon' walk up to Jacob O'Malley and ask him about this Andromache Mitchell, and we're gon' find out where she is. Then we're onna send ya on a trip to find her. It'll be fun, y'all see."

Lina nodded.

Ashley stared at them for a long time.

And then, for the first time in a long time that day, Ashley smiled.

§§§§§

**Jessica Roster stared at Natalie.**

Natalie sat in the front seat, crying silently. Jessica hated her for looking gorgeous even when she was crying. Perfect, miniature little crystalline tears slid down her perfect face. Long golden hair cascaded down Natalie's back.

Jessica looked away. She had never been completely honest with Natalie about the story of how she had found Natalie. Jessica remembered the day it all started clearly, four years ago.

She thought then, letting her thoughts wander.

_Jessica Marie Roster bustled around her mansion happily._

_ The buzz about her foster home was better than she even could have hoped, and the publicity was bringing her money, commercials, and more money. She sighed happily. In it all, kids were mostly happy in their homes- eh- mostly. She hadn't the time to worry about it._

_ Her life as a as a star had taught her that life was cruel. No matter how far away you ran, to any backwoods town of Georgia, you would still be pushed and punished. There were still false stories about Ms. Jessica Marie Roster, former movie star, in the tabloids. It frustrated Jessica. It simply wasn't fair._

_ Her mind was traveling along these thoughts when the doorbell rang._

_ The play of the children didn't stop, of course, they just assumed another child had a playdate of some sort. And yet, as Jessica watched, no one stood. So then, probably some salesman or paparazzi. Jessica groaned._

_ Her six-inch heels clicked on the mahogany floor. The rhythmic sound soothed Jessica, calming her frustration and anger. If it was some sort of cheap photographer, she'd give him what he wanted- sort of. Pictures, of course, but of happy children, and a loving foster mother…_

_ The doorbell rang again just as Jessica swung open the door._

_ "What on this green earth do you want?" she snapped, before she saw who it was._

_ A man stood before her. He seemed to be in his early thirties, and he was exceptionally handsome. Bright blue, clear eyes looked at her, penetrating Jessica's feeble brain in comparison._

_ The man tilted his head, and Jessica felt very small next to the seven-foot man. "My name is Clark Jacobs, and I am here to inquire about your facility."_

_ Jessica crossed her arms. "What do you wanna know? It's a group foster home."_

_ Clark smiled sadly. "I am looking for a home to place my daughter."_

_ Jessica considered this for a moment and then sighed. "Who did you say you were?"_

_ "Clark Jacobs. I can show you an ID, if you'd like." _

_ Jessica shook her head. "That won't be necessary. I suppose you had better come in."_

_ Clark did as she said, and Jessica led him to the kitchen. "What is your daughter's name?"_

_ Clark hesitated. "Ah- I named her after her mother."_

_ "And what is her mother's name?" Jessica asked slowly._

_ "Her mother is dead."_

_ Jessica sighed in exasperation. That was fine, but it still didn't tell her anything. She was going to have to tip-toe around the situation. "I'm sorry. How long…?"_

_ "Ten years." _

_ Jessica nodded somberly. That was a long time ago. She wondered how much Clark must've loved his wife to still miss her. "I'm terribly sorry. I hate to ask, but, the girl's name…"_

_ The man sighed and said nothing._

_ Jessica rubbed her face. Clark was a real piece of work. It was obvious no name would be revealed until the birth certificate. _

_ "Her age, then?"_

_ Clark crossed his arms. "Twelve years of age."_

_ Jessica smiled. Finally, some real information. "Good. Progress. Now, date of birth…"_

_ "Look," Clark interrupted. "All I want to know is whether the kids here are happy or not."_

_ Jessica looked at him for a long time. Another sigh for the second time in five minutes, and then she spoke. "Mr. Jacobs, if I may- this house is specifically designed to give children a place to live. To hope. I designed it so that they may grow up with other people that may understand the struggles that they are going through. I have about twenty in the home right now, and I am hoping to expand to about thirty by this May. This home is supposed to be a safe haven for children with troubles."_

_ Clark looked at her sadly, and then nodded somberly. "Thank you, Ms. Roster. I duly appreciate it."_

_ Then he rose, got up, and left._

_ There was the click of the front door._

_ Jessica shook her head. That man was strange, all right, just plain odd. She was glad she wouldn't have to deal with him or his daughter. He would have to deal with Social Services first, of course, she reasoned, and breathed a sigh of relief. _

_ Jessica mistakenly thought him gone._

_ Two days later, she opened her front door at precisely 5: 32 AM to find a beautiful twelve year old girl sprawled out on the porch._

Jessica's hands shook. She had tried everything, from googling 'Clark Jacobs' to contacting the FBI. In the end, Jessica was forced to just believe that Natalie was Clark's daughter, and Clark Jacobs was the alias of a very shady man. Or Clark Jacobs was a kidnapper. Jessica wasn't quite sure, but she knew there was a connection. She felt it in her bones.

Natalie had bought Jessica quite a lot of publicity and congrats, so Jessica was reluctant to let her go. Because of Natalie's missing past, it was unlikely that she had a future. Jessica felt bad, but if she revealed the mysterious Clark Jacobs to Natalie, Jessica might get a lot of bad rep.

And so, Jessica Roster's lips were sealed.


	4. Chapter 4

-4-

**Natalie woke up.**

Bright morning sunlight streamed through her window. It was Tuesday, Natalie remembered, the day after her latest flashback. The day after the news that she was doomed. On the bright side, Natalie randomly had the day off for an in-service.

Natalie had just ended one of her Dreams. She called them Dreams with a capital D because they were a separate category all on their own. About once every week, Natalie dreamed of a woman. She looked exactly the same in all of her dreams, just at different ages and different time periods. Natalie had just dreamed of the woman as a flapper girl in Prohibition Manhattan.

She was shaking a little bit. It was strange, because those dreams were like memories for her. The really eerie part was that Natalie looked a lot like those women. Like, _a lot _alike.

Natalie stood up and walked over to her shared desk. She had the room to herself until Monday, and at present Natalie's art supplies were scattered all over the desk. The drawing of her father lay crookedly.

She went underneath the bottom bunk and pulled out a folder. Inside the folder were drawings, of every Dream she had ever dreamt. Natalie opened it slowly, and then walked over to the desk.

There were two pictures for each Dream, a portrait and a full-body. Natalie opened the rickety drawer, grabbed a charcoal pencil, and started drawing.

As usual, Natalie found calmness in the soothing repetition of drawing. The careful strokes, the little shading- it all felt familiar. As if she had done this before, in another life; Before. Before whatever accident happened to make Natalie the way she was.

There was a knock at Natalie's door.

"Natalie? Are you awake?" Jessica called quietly.

"No," Natalie responded clearly.

An audible sigh passed through the door. "I really need to talk to you."

"I'm sleeping."

"I know you're awake, Natalie. I can hear you drawing."

Natalie didn't answer; she just kept drawing. Jessica opened the door, and Natalie snapped her head up and glared at her.

"Thanks for respecting my privacy," Natalie called.

"You have none when you're under my roof," Jessica retorted. "And I need to ask you some questions."

"Go ahead," Natalie muttered. "Like I can stop you."

"They're about you're flashback."

Natalie tilted her head and considered her. "Why are you even interested in this? Why do you even want to know?"

"What did your father look like?" Jessica asked, completely ignoring Natalie's barrage of questions.

Natalie rolled her eyes and handed Jessica her drawing. "Like this."

Jessica raised her gray eyebrows and unfolded the loose leaf paper. As soon as she got it mostly straight, she sucked in a harsh breath.

"So it is him," Natalie murmured. Then she looked at Natalie. "What exactly did your father say to you?"

"He didn't say anything to me. I said something to him."

"And what was that?" Jessica's tone was clearly exasperated.

"Hello, Father."

Jessica bit her lip and looked like she wanted to say something. Instead, she stood. "That's all I needed to know."

Natalie completely ignored her. Her blood was sizzling from pent-up anger. How dare Jessica invade her fricking privacy and ask hypocritical questions regarding her flashbacks? God, Jessica was such a bitch sometimes.

Then Jessica turned around and looked at Natalie again. "By the way, young lady, you really need to watch that attitude. I'm trying to help, here, and it doesn't make matters easier for me when you're some no-name troubled delinquent."

Natalie stood up suddenly. "What the hell did you just call me?"

"A delinquent, because that's what you're acting like. Demanding signatures, taking over practice for my team, thinking you own the world! Natalie, wake up! I am the best thing that has ever happened to you, and it is high time you started realizing it! You probably come from some slutty low-life family who can't handle their bills. They probably used you and sent you out, and you're trying to _find _them? Natalie, honey, wake up and smell the coffee."

Natalie gasped. As mean as Jessica was, that was the most horrible thing she had ever said to Natalie. She was furious.

"_How _dare _you_," Natalie seethed. "How the frigging hell dare you! Who the hell do you think you are? Some princess? How dare you ever assume anything about my family, wherever they are."

Jessica smirked. "Honey, they don't care about you. You need to get that straight."

Then there was the smell of ozone in the air.

Jessica continued to talk, insulting Natalie and everything she believed in. Natalie was on the verge of tears. Jessica was such a bitch, and Natalie was between furious and upset.

Jessica looked at her strangely. "You think your daddy loved you? Well, he's not here still, is he?"

Natalie screamed. That was the last straw.

Then the strangest thing happened.

There was a flash of blue light, and then Natalie fell to the ground, overtaken by a flashback.

_Natalie was young. _

_ She was a baby, about infant-aged. A beautiful woman was holding her, caressing her. With a start, Natalie realized that the woman looked a lot like her. In fact, the woman looked like the women Natalie saw in her Dreams._

_ The woman played with her, and Natalie grabbed her elegant finger with a chubby little baby hand. Then a man walked into the room._

_ It was a younger version of Natalie's father. He walked over to the woman and Natalie, and he smiled, hugging the woman._

_ The woman looked up and kissed him, a soft, delicate kiss. They were a family, Natalie realized. The woman had to be Natalie's mother. Her father was standing there, protecting them all, and Natalie was their daughter. The loved, adored daughter._

_ She felt like she was intruding on her own memories. These couldn't be her recollections. They were far too happy and perfect._

_ The man smiled down at the woman again. "Hi, Helen," he murmured, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear._

_ "I trust work went alright?" Helen quipped._

_ The man grinned and pulled her up. Helen shrieked and clutched tightly to Natalie. "Lucas Delos!" she gasped as he pulled her in for a kiss._

_ Lucas smiled evilly. "Yes, dear Helen Delos?"_

_ Helen sighed, clearly exasperated. "There is a baby in my hands."_

_ "And what is her name?" Lucas asked, directed toward the baby._

_ Natalie cooed, and Helen laughed. "Her name is Andromache Delos, silly."_

_ Natalie's mind was reeling. Her name was Andromache Delos. Her father's name was Lucas Delos. Her mother's name was Helen Delos. And they were a family._

_ Lucas smiled. "It's almost time for naptime, isn't it?"_

_ "Yes," Helen said slowly. "Why?"_

_ "Would you like to get some coffee?"_

_ Helen smiled. "I'd love to. Did you really get a sitter?"_

_ Lucas shrugged, smiling boyishly. "Possibly."_

_ Helen kissed him as she set a sleepy Andromache down in her crib. She stroked Andromache's head. Then she turned to Lucas._

_ The last thing Natalie heard before coming out of the flashback was Helen's "Just let me get my sweater…"_

Natalie woke with her face wet.

She never cried.

Ever.

And yet.

She remembered Helen and Lucas's faces, and she was sobbing, heavily and heartily. So hard that she didn't hear Jessica screaming bloody murder at her being some insolent child, or kids running in.

Natalie Roster had a family.

A mom. The kind that tucked kids in to say goodnight. The kind that read bedtime stories. The kind that made their kids meals, and took them clothes shopping. The kind that saved their first tooth, and threw amazing birthday parties. Natalie cried.

A dad. The kind that burnt mac n' cheese on the stove. The kind that took their kids to see their first ball game. The kind that was always there to pick her up from school. The kind that cheered the loudest and most obnoxiously on the sidelines. Natalie sobbed.

And a baby. The kind that had parents that said goodnight, burnt mac 'n cheese, read bedtime stories, took them clothes shopping, saved first teeth, took them to see their first ball game, that picked her up from school, that threw amazing birthday parties, that cheered the most obnoxiously on the sidelines.

Natalie Roster had a family. And now it was gone.

Lucas, Helen, and Andromache Delos. Those names were like precious gems to Natalie.

Or Andromache?

Then Jessica was shaking her, and Natalie looked up, her sight blurred with tears.

"My god, Natalie, I'm so sorry. You've been out for four hours. What the hell just happened?" Jessica shrieked.

Natalie took a deep breath and tried, with no success, to speak.

"I know their names," she cried.

And then everyone in the room was silent.

§§§§§

**He writhed in pain.**

He awoke to the man with blonde hair shaking him vigorously, a worried expression on his face. The man spoke after a lengthy silence.

"That was the worst one yet."

He sighed. "I know. She was just about to reveal her powers. I had to stop her, so I sent her under- on purpose. She-" He rubbed his face. "She knows my name now."

§§§§§

**Jake stared at Ashley.**

He didn't even know why in the first place Ashley would risk to talk to him, but here they were, at Likeheim Park where Ashley had told him to meet her. Jake raised an eyebrow at Ashley's conspicuous silence.

"Don't raise an eyebrow at me," Ashley snapped.

"I wasn't raising an eyebrow. Just-" Jake remembered a similar comment to another girl a long time ago. He cleared his throat. "Yeah."

He started walking away, towards the nice soccer fields with actual goals. Jake could never play on them, but it felt nice to be in a place where soccer mattered.

Ashley followed him, and they looked at the soccer players in silence. Then she turned to Jake suddenly.

"Why did you quit?" Ashley asked bluntly.

Jake winced. "No reason."

"Come on," Ashley said, rolling her eyebrows. "You weren't half-bad. There had to be some reason."

"There wasn't," Jake snapped, and Ashley put up her hands in defense.

"Woah. Jesus Christ, Jacob, you're as snappy as an alligator today," she said, wrinkling her nose at him.

Jake whirled around. "Not everyone has platinum slippers, princess." He twisted the other way and started speed walking.

Ashley stayed behind as she processed what he had just said, and then she ran, full-sprint. In seconds, Ashley was beside him, her entire face a mixture of regret and sympathy.

"I am so sorry. I didn't mean to pry or anything, it's just-"

"You meant to pry," Jake supplied rubbing his face. "It's fine. You wouldn't be the first."

Ashley stopped, regarding him. "You think I'm some sort of stuck-up cheerleader bitch." The sentence was accusing.

"Pretty much," he admitted shamelessly. "You've kinda earned your title."

Her expression looked hurt. "I'm not a total airhead, you know."

"Prove it."

Jake hadn't meant to challenge her, but Ashley's eyes widened at the confrontation. Apparently, Ashley might not have been completely dumb, but the people she hung out with were.

Ashley took a deep breath and crossed her arms. She really was pretty, Jake thought, for a stuck-up cheerleader bitch. An idiot, but pretty.

"Do you remember Andromache Mitchell?"

The sentence hit him like a blow. He sucked in a breath. "Of course I do."

Ashley smiled weakly. "That's kind of why I'm here in the first place."

Jake closed his eyes in pain and then opened them. "You really have a talent for bringing people pain, you know that?"

Ashley cocked her head and then grinned a little. "You liked her."

"That's a word for it," Jake muttered, kicking the sidewalk with his foot. More like traumatically loved.

"Why haven't you asked her out yet, then?" Ashley asked, completely oblivious.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. You're not that bad-looking and you've got nothing to lose," she said, shrugging.

Jacob frowned at her. "Dro moved to Boston with her dad. She went MIA and never spoke to me again after she moved."

There was a stunned silence, and then Ashley put a small, perfectly manicured hand to her lips.

Jake just shook his head. "I've gotten over it. Mostly."

"Clearly," Ashley murmured. Then she got a fierce look on her face. "You know I was friends with Mack, right?"

"You mean Dro," Jake said stubbornly, "but yes."

Ashley nodded. "I was her best friend. Like, closer than sisters."

"Before you ditched her, you mean."

She winced. "Yes, but let's just pretend that never happened."

"If you say so."

Ashley glared at him and then continued. "I find it very hard to believe that the Mack-"

"You mean Dro."

"Fine! The Dro I ever knew would do something like that. Like, ever. That sounds pretty freakin ridic to me."

"It was to me, too," Jake said sadly. "She started texting me all this bullshit about being captured by some enemy of her dad's."

Ashley's face lit up like Christmas, and Jake's heart sank.

"What if that bullshit wasn't really bullshit?" she asked excitedly.

Jake just rubbed his face and didn't answer.

"What if-" Ashley continued- "she was really being captured?"

"Oh my god, Ashley!" Jake shouted. "She's-" his voice broke. "She's gone."

She sighed and sat down on a park bench. "I miss her. I miss the vanilla ice cream and the smiles and the laughter. I don't wanna be a part of the airhead cheerleaders." Ashley laughed. "I don't wanna be some stuck up cheerleader bitch."

Jake sighed and sat down next to her. "It's a good thing you're not, then."

Ashley looked up and smiled through her tears. "Really?"

"Yep. You've always been different. Way more bitchy than the rest."

Ashley half-laughed and half-cried.

Jake smiled. "Hey," he said softly. "We can go to Boston and try and find her in the city of about seven hundred thousand people."

Ashley smiled. "It's not as much as New York."

"I do know her dad's name," Jake continued. "We could always look him up while we're there."

"That's sweet. But, as you said, she's gone."

Jake was silent, and then he stood up. "No, she's not. I'm taking you to Boston if I have to use the last of my ten-thousand miles left on my sucky car to do it."

Ashley looked at him. "Are you serious?"

"Mm-hm." Jake smiled triumphantly.

Ashley just stared at him until her face broke into a smile. "Hell yeah!" she shouted, and they sat there, happy and content.

She was going to seek Andromache Helen Mitchell out in the wild concrete jungle of Boston, Massachusetts, out in the wild, dangerous game that was a population of seven thousand people.

Was it unlikely? Certainly. Would it come to pass? Probably not.

But there was no harm in trying.


	5. Chapter 5

-5-

**Natalie cried for the rest of the day.**

She was inconsolable. She didn't eat. She didn't move. She just lay in her bed in the fetal position, curled up in a tiny, unmoving ball.

Natalie didn't set her alarm. She knew she hadn't had any school that week, but she couldn't handle the integrated hallways of torture. Everywhere she looked, she saw only them.

Lucas and Helen Delos.

Now it was Wednesday. Normal children would be waking up, going to school, writing papers and taking tests. Normal children would be chatting with their friends and complaining about marginal amounts of homework.

Normal children.

Tears slid down Natalie's face. She hadn't spoken a word since she had shouted that she knew their names. The bluish light had left singe marks on the cheap carpet, and Jessica was threatening to get her called in for a full examination.

A fragile knock sounded at Natalie's door.

"Hey," Jessica said softly. "You okay?"

Natalie was silent.

Jessica sighed and sat down next to her on the bed. "What are their names?"

Natalie just rolled over so that she was facing the wall and not Jessica.

"I'm sorry for what I said yesterday." Surprisingly, Jessica sounded like she meant it. "It may not have been completely true."

That was big, coming from Jessica. Admitting that she was even partially wrong was all Natalie was going to get. And yet- Natalie didn't care.

She thought back to Lucas and Helen. Natalie bet that they loved each other. They looked like Barbie® and Ken® reunited. Lucas with his troublemaker smile and Helen with her sparkly brown eyes. She remembered seeing her parents kiss and felt tingly. After a while, she realized it was longing.

The tears fell so freely from her eyes. Natalie doubted she would ever be done crying. She wanted a friend. No one ever made friends with her because of her spotty past and doubtful future. You just didn't make that kind of connection with those kinds of girls.

Jessica sighed. "Natalie, honey, you have to eat."

Natalie didn't answer.

"How are you going to find them if you don't tell us their names?" Jessica finally asked accusingly. "Hmm?"

The truth was, Natalie wasn't sure if she wanted to find them. They had looked so happy- they had probably given Natalie away because of some brain default.

It wasn't such an odd thought. Natalie had always been different. She could do everything easier and faster than every kid, but that didn't change anything. Natalie still had no future.

Jessica picked her up by the shirt collar. "Natalie Roster. Listen to me right now."

"Helen."

"What?" Jessica inquired quietly.

Natalie cleared her scratchy throat. "That was my mom's name."

There was a quietness then, something that enveloped the room. It was a black hole, taking all jest and light out of the room and making it dark and forbidding.

Jessica looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't. She bit her lip.

"Go ahead," Natalie waved softly. "I don't care anymore."

"Describe the flashback for me."

Natalie looked at Jessica for a moment, and then began.

"I will not tell you the details of the flashback because they are far too personal and far too precious. Here is what I will tell you-

"I was a baby. Probably still an infant.

"My mother, Helen Delos, was watching over me. She had long, golden curls that cascaded to her slim waist. She had beautiful sparkly amber eyes and a pretty pink smile.

"Then my father, Lucas Delos, came into my baby bedroom. He was about seven feet tall, with bright blue eyes and a sly smile.

That is what I will tell you."

Jessica nodded sadly, absorbing the information. Then Natalie spoke again.

"My name is Andromache Delos."

Jessica looked confused, but then she nodded once more. "Would you like me to call you that?"

Natalie shook my head. "I don't remember my parents or any of my life Before. The girl before was named Andromache. Now my name is Natalie."

Jessica pressed her lips tightly together. "Okay." Then she did something that surprised Natalie. Jessica hugged her.

Then Natalie did something that surprised her even more.

She let the old lady hug her.

§§§§§

**He picked up the photograph.**

It was taken thirteen years ago.

In it was the picture of the most beautiful woman He had ever seen and the most precious baby he had ever seen.

He missed them so much.

With the slip He had mistakenly given, He was forced to accept the possibility that she might find him. And with him, His world.

The picture, after all, was of His wife and child.

§§§§§

"**Yes," said Ashley Day. "I'm sleeping over at Grace's this weekend."**

Her parents exchanged brief but meaningful looks. "Honey," her mother began, "with all that's happened this week, are you sure that's the best idea?"

Her father nodded supportively.

"Yes," Ashley answered immediately. "It will help take my mind off of things." She felt bad lying to her parents, but it had to be done.

Her mother and father sighed. "Your grades aren't exactly a good factor weighing into this either," her father warned.

Ashley nodded. "I know. They're way too low. I quit cheer."

Both of her parents' heads snapped up. "_You did what_?" they both shouted in unison.

Ashley nodded sadly. "It had to be done. My grades were too low. No college will ever accept me with those grades, no matter how fantastic my routine."

Then her mother pulled her in for a hug. She smelled like lavender and sage, and her soft cashmere sweater soothed Ashley. No matter how old Ashley got, she could always count on her parents to be there for her.

Her mother tucked a strand of stray hair behind Ashley's ear. "Okey doke," she said softly.

"Jackie-" her father started, but her mother shook her head.

"My baby needs to heal," she said stubbornly, with that Midwestern mom accent.

Her father rubbed a callused hand across his face. "Okay."

Ashley smiled then. "Thanks," she said, kissing her father and mother on the cheek as she ran out of the room to text Jacob, Grace, and Lina in the group MMS they had set up the day before.

Before she left the room, Jaqueline and Richard Day exchanged a look.

"She's up to something," Jackie muttered.

"Yep," Rick said as he hugged her.

Needless to say, they weren't worried.

§§§§§

**Jake stared at the text.**

Thanks to Grace Sander's extensive wealth resources, he and Ashley now had two economy tickets from O'Hare airport to Reagan airport. They were going to spend the weekend looking for Andromache Mitchell.

They had several photographs of Dro, and they were going to simply ask around. Both he and Ashley both knew they were never going to find her, but they were going to try, no matter what.

Who knows? Maybe, whatever the unlikely statistics may be, they would find the beautiful Andromache Mitchell. Maybe they would ask her questions, and expect answers. You never really know.

Jake just stared out the window and thought.

He felt like a chapter had passed in his life. The sort of chapter where sadness hung in the air, thick as black velvet drapes, obscuring you from whatever mystery may lie ahead.

The first time he had felt like that, he had been a lonely little fifth-grader who played soccer.

Andromache Mitchell had changed him then.

After she was gone, the feeling came back.

Ashley Day changed him now.

Life was funny, Jake thought. He would never had thought that he would be texting people like Grace Sanders and Ashley Day, and yet here he was. In that position.

Love was also funny. Jake hadn't seen Andromache Mitchell in years, and yet he still felt for her.

It was all very funny.

You fell for who you thought you were going to the least.


	6. Chapter 6

-6-

**Natalie looked at Dr. Tuttle hopefully.**

It was Friday, two days after Jessica had gone to Dr. Tuttle and told her the names. Natalie now stared at Dr. Tuttle's bronze skin and dark frizzy hair.

For the first time that Natalie saw Dr. Tuttle, she was smiling.

"Jessica, I looked for those names you gave me Wednesday," Dr. Tuttle said. "I called you in because I found some results."

Natalie sucked in her breath. "Where? Do you have pictures?"

"Yes, yes," Dr. Tuttle said calmly. "I am going to give you the article and pictures and then you are going to respond to me and tell me if you recollect this man."

She handed Natalie a piece of newspaper. On it was the front page article, which was titled **NANTUCKET HIGHSCHOOL TEAM TAKES BOSTON CHAMPIONSHIP DUE TO MIRACLE STUDENTS**. Natalie's heart accelerated as she read the paragraph.

**Last Friday, the Nantucket High school Football team took the rest of the league in a record blowout. **

** The team of the small tourist island, formerly ranked dead last, is now making a name for itself. The reason? We inquire Coach John Newton.**

** He is quoted on saying: "**_**We have spirit, but no raw skill and expertise. I mean, what can you expect? We're a whaling island. The real reason, I have to say, is probably the Delos family. Their three boys and two girls moved from Spain earlier this year to Nantucket to a mansion. They truly are a Nantucket miracle."**_

__**The boys are all high school students. We interviewed them each individually.**

** Hector Delos. The oldest and largest of the of the Delos boys, he is a senior and a physical miracle. When asked, he would do no interviewing. What we have gained from separate sources is that he is a generally good-spirited person with a girlfriend and good grades. The perfect child.**

** Jason Delos. The youngest and smallest of the Delos boys, he is a junior. He is agile, quick, and we could not have won the game without him. When asked, he would also do no interviewing. **

** And Lucas Delos, the miracle boy.**

Natalie's heart stopped. She read voraciously.

**Lucas is cousin to the two prior, whom are brothers. He scored the last three decisive touchdowns. When asked, he also would not be interviewed. From alternate sources, Lucas has a girlfriend, generally good grades, and is the miracle boy, essentially.**

** So, when people ask about the miracle that is the win, the answer lies in the three Delos boys.**

Natalie looked at the photographs. It showed three different pictures, one of what the caption underneath said was Hector. He was tall, with a smart-aleck smile. He was kissing his girlfriend.

The next one was that of Jason. Both he and his brother were insanely handsome. If they hadn't been supposedly related to her and about forty by this point, from what Natalie saw with the date, she might have to kick their girlfriends out and kiss both of them.

Then she saw her father.

It was a younger version of the man she had seen in her flashback. Even in black-and-white, it was undoubtedly her father. The picture was of Lucas and Helen hugging tightly. They looked so perfect.

Natalie's heart raced. "Nantucket?" she murmured.

Dr. Tuttle raised her eyebrows. "So this is him?"

"And my mom, too," Natalie said, pointing to the woman in the picture. "That's her."

Dr. Tuttle flicked her eyes back and forth between the woman and her. She smiled then. "The resemblance is certainly uncanny."

Natalie bit her lip. "I want to meet them."

Dr. Tuttle and Jessica exchanged looks. "We don't know if Lucas and Helen are still taking up residence in Nantucket," Dr. Tuttle began.

"I don't care," Natalie said, standing. "I want to go to Nantucket. The least I can do is ask about them. Then maybe I'll get a lead."

Jessica stared at her and nodded. "That does make sense, Carol."

Dr. Tuttle sighed. "Then who is going to take you? Miss Roster is a very busy woman."

"I'll take myself," Natalie said, and seeing Dr. Tuttle's balk, she continued. "I would want to do this anyway. I have my driver's license. Technically, I could rent a car and drive to the Nantucket ferry. I can pay for the car and gas. I have cash saved up from babysitting."

To her surprise, it was Dr. Tuttle who agreed first. "That makes sense, Jessica."

Jessica, too, nodded. "I support this, honey. I really do. That's a long drive though, and I hope you know that."

"I do," Natalie said immediately.

Jessica ran a hand through her gray bob. "Then in that case, you can have the Toyota I give to kids who make trips like this. You will have to pay for gas, and I suggest you bring as much as you have. You can leave as soon as you'd like."

Natalie smiled. "I'll leave tonight, as soon as I'm packed."

"Natalie! That's a bit early, don't you think?" Jessica exclaimed.

Natalie shook her head. "Not for me. I've been waiting my entire life for this trip."

Then Jessica nodded.

Dr. Tuttle also nodded.

They both smiled at her, and Natalie smiled back.

She was going to Boston.

§§§§§

**Ashley Day stared at the plane ticket.**

Economy class. Red-eye, for sure. But still. She was going to Boston with Jacob O'Malley.

They would take the plane back on Saturday night if they didn't find Mack. Ashley doubted they would find her, but it was worth a shot. Even worth a double red-eye.

She was going to Boston.

§§§§§

**Jacob O'Malley couldn't wait.**

His parents couldn't care less about him being gone. In a family of eight kids, you tended to blend into the background.

The ticket, therefore, was an exciting distraction.

Ashley and he were taking a double red-eye through Reagan and O'Hare. They were searching for a girl that they would probably never find. And yet- he felt almost giddy with anticipation.

He was going to Boston.

§§§§§

**Jessica Roster read her book as Natalie packed.**

Finally, she took off her glasses and rested the book against her chest. Lucas Delos. So that was his name. Or, at least, one of them.

And Helen. Jesus, Natalie thought, they were effing gorgeous. Natalie made a lot of sense now. She was practically a shadow of the woman in the newspaper. Both of them, gorgeous Barbie Dolls.

And now Natalie was going away, off to Boston. Alone. Jesus Christ. Jessica had no doubt she would find something about her family there, good or bad.

Natalie of Nantucket, Jessica thought wryly. She had been thinking a lot about Andromache. If it weren't for her meeting with Clark Jacobs, she might have been forced to assume that Natalie was making it all up. Jesus. Andromache? Who named their kid that?  
And yet, Clark Jacobs certainly was peculiar.

Jessica thought about what Clark had said about his wife being dead. That would make the beautiful woman in the picture… dead. If Jessica were to trust Clark, of course, and she had no inclination to do so. There was also the fact that Jessica would in no circumstances tell Natalie about Clark/Lucas. No way.

And yet, Jessica felt an obligation.

Just then, there was a knock at Jessica's door.

"Come in," Jessica called softly.

Natalie came in. She was dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, and yet she still looked beautiful. Prettier than Jessica had ever seen her, actually. She had a carefree, smiling look.

"You ready?" Jessica asked, a tiny smile on her face.

"Yep," Natalie said. "I have three hundred dollars cash and three thousand dollars in my bank account, plus extra money for the Nantucket ferry and food. I have a bag packed with three outfits and toiletries. I think that's about it."

Jessica smiled a wide smile. "It's six thirty, you know. Have you eaten?"

Natalie nodded. "Yeah. I had a bowl of Velveeta."

"Okay then," Jessica said quietly. She almost said something about Helen possibly being dead, but she opted not to. "Be careful, okay? I want you back safe by Tuesday."

Natalie nodded. "I have my phone and charger, Miss Roster. Don't worry."

Then Jessica shrugged. "Then what are you waiting for? Go find them."

Then Natalie grinned. "I think I will," she said, and then she darted out of the room without as much as another word.

_If there even is still a _'them' _anymore, _Jessica thought gloomily.


	7. Chapter 7

-7-

**Natalie finally pulled into the Boston city limits.**

It was five in the afternoon, and Natalie gaped from the window of the cruddy Toyota. She had paused to take a few catnaps here and there, but now, with the big city all around her, Natalie thought it was all worth it. Three cups of coffee had kept her alert and a little jittery, but still alert.

She looked at the huge skyscrapers in marvel. She had never been to a big city in her four years (that she could remember, of course) and this one was a novel idea. Natalie had researched, of course; a few books here for school projects and such, but _this. _Bye-bye small town in Georgia and hello city in Massachusetts.

Natalie kept her eyes alert in wonder as she finally pulled into the Nantucket ferry parking lot. There was a great expanse of water on the sunny day, and the sunlight glinted on the shimmery water. It couldn't be expressed as the clear blue of Georgia's ocean, more like a tinted grey, but still. It was big city water.

She had pulled an all-nighter driving and as Natalie took the keys out of the ignition and stepped out into the crisp spring Boston air, she felt the full force of it. Her legs felt weak and tingly, and she stretched her quads, ignoring the strange looks. Eh. Whatever.

Natalie grabbed her wallet and walked over to the ticket booth. With some satisfaction, she saw that the chalkboard sign that had ferry times on it was indeed correct, and that Natalie had only a half an hour to wait.

She stood in the surprisingly long line and felt a strange sense of de'ja'vu. For the first time in a long time, she hoped she wouldn't get a flashback. That would be very bad, considering her place in public and the lack of heat to blame it on.

Natalie gripped her wallet tightly. If she lost that, then she might have to wait another hour while getting more money from the bank, not to mention it had her phone attached and now (with her depleted money) two hundred fifty dollars.

She was thinking these thoughts as the ticket man raised an eyebrow. "Can you pay for this?" he said, eying her rumpled state and cheap apparel.

Natalie raised her eyebrows. That was certainly very rude, and she said so.

"Yes, of course I can. That was also very rude. Probably why you don't have any friends," she said, making wild assumptions as she handed him the cash.

The man colored slightly as he handed Natalie her ticket. "Six o' clock ferry, right there young lady."

Natalie smirked. So she had hit a nerve. Good. Grizzly old men shouldn't take it out on their customers just because their life sucked.

And Natalie should know. She had a life that sucked too.

She then went to get her luggage out of her car. It was small; only a cheap duffel bag, but it had all of her essentials in it. Natalie had reserved a hotel with a one-night-stay with her saved money (she had never spent a dime in existence) and was excited. For once, she had splurged, so that bedbugs might not be part of the experience.

After that, she set the bag down at her feet and decided to sit on the bench and rest awhile. It was strange that Natalie would need to rest after sitting seventeen solid hours in the car, but she did. Natalie felt as if she could fall asleep at any moment.

With this in mind, she picked up her lightweight bag and slung it over her shoulders. There was a small coffee shop primarily intended for exhausted tourists similar to her, and she walked into it.

It was a cute little place, with small Styrofoam coffee cups. There weren't any fancy Starbucks level coffees, of course, but a small cup of Jo would have to do.

She walked up to the register (the place was completely dead at five in the afternoon) and ordered her coffee.

"A medium cup of plain coffee, please," Natalie requested politely.

"Gotcha," the lady at the register said, brewing a cup. "Anything else?"

"No, thanks," Natalie said.

"That'll be four dollars and seventy-three cents," the woman said, and Natalie sighed at the inexplicable tourist prices.

She was shortly handed a steaming cup, and as Natalie dissolved the sugar into the black coffee, she let her thoughts wander. Nantucket was a small island. It was actually possible that she would find Lucas and Helen.

_That doesn't mean that they necessarily want you back, _a persistent voice in Natalie's head said. She waved the thought aside. Who cared? She could get a gist of who she was Before.

In fact, there may not even be a Before.

Natalie walked back to the ferry waiting benches and sipped her coffee. It was time, she decided, that she meet her parents.

§§§§§

**Ashley collapsed on the sidewalk, exhausted.**

They had been looking all day, showing people photos, giving people their alternate email they set up, even screaming over a crowd. And yet- nothing. Ashley wasn't surprised; just disappointed. It would have been nice to find her old friend.

Jacob sat down next to her, his hands on his knees. The Boston curb was probably not the most sanitary place to sit down, but Ashley did it anyway. They had literally walked all the way from the airport to this place. Ashley read a sign that said **NANTUCKET FERRY**. She sighed.

"Well," Jake said softly, "I mean, what we expected? It was stupid anyway."

A shop door across the street jingled, and a pretty young teenager stepped out. Ashley frowned in envy as Jake started to ramble. Her hair was like Mack's: long, golden curls that cascaded to her slim waist. Those curls were pulled back in a ponytail now, and they looked slightly rumpled, but still. Ashley would give anything for that hair.

"I mean, out of seven _thousand _people?" Jake asked himself more than Ashley. "Crazy, right?"

"Mm-hm," Ashley murmured, eyes on the girl. She looked to be about sixteen, and Ashley literally saw people's eyes following her. She sighed in disgust and was about to stand up when the girl turned around.

A pair of sparkly amber eyes looked back at her.

Ashley let her jaw drop as Jacob asked her a question. "Ashley? Day? Yello? Anyone home?"

"Who does that look like to you?" Ashley said suddenly, turning Jake's chin toward the girl. Ashley would know that face anywhere, but it could just be her mind playing tricks on her.

"Where?" Jacob asked, until his eyes made contact with the pretty face. His jaw, too, dropped.

He suddenly yanked Ashley up and marched across the street, ignoring the continuous screeches of brakes and honks that came as an effect of that.

Jake ran all the way over, pulling Ashley's arm as he did so, and tapped on the girl's shoulder.

She whirled around, eyes wide, and Ashley no longer had any doubt. There was not another woman in the world with a face such as Mack's.

Mack slopped coffee all over herself. She ignored it, however, and her eyes widened. "Who are you?" she asked angrily.

Jacob frowned. "I'm Jacob O'Malley."

"And I'm Ashley Day," Ashley said, befuddled. Was Mack really that changed that she would ignore them?

Mack nodded slowly. "Yep. And I am nameless, because I have absolutely no idea who you are."

"Andromache," Ashley said exasperatedly. "Come on."

Mack's eyes widened. "Who the hell are you?" she cried.

Jacob and Ashley exchanged looks.

"We're your friends. You know, back in the days of Illinois and middle school and elementary school? I know you, Mack. You were my best friend in third grade," Ashley said softly. "This isn't funny."

There was a stunned silence. Then Mack dropped her coffee, slopping it all over herself. Her eyes were insanely dilated.

She cleared her throat. "Who did you say you were?"


End file.
